


Swing

by Himmelreich



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fic, from the Postcard Ficlet Project, shared by courtesy of the recipient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4327881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himmelreich/pseuds/Himmelreich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There are no real playgrounds on Vers, just as there is no real childhood.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meguri_aite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meguri_aite/gifts).



> Written for the Postcard Ficlet Project. The prompt was _"Aldnoah.Zero + Slaine and Klancain + Swing"_.
> 
> This was really hard to solve in the confined space that is the back of a postcard. I think if I had to break it further down, it would be along the lines of logic that Klancain wished to see more of the world, but couldn't, and Slaine saw too much of it too early, and not on his own volition.

There are no real playgrounds on Vers, just as there is no real childhood. Nobility raises their successors from the beginning to become successful leaders, and children of the working class are drilled from early on to be mature and strive for servant positions. Neither was enabled by free time spent playing with others. Nevertheless, someone had put up a swing made from wire and a metal plate somewhere at the outer wall of the Royal Palace, attached to leftover scaffolding, either not yet spotted or simply ignored by authorities. And that is where he first sees the other boy, still dressed in black funeral clothes, looking miserable and alone, at a complete standstill.

“Aren’t swings supposed to move?” he asks, and the boy practically jumps from his seat, turning to him, and obviously recognises him as someone of higher standing, bowing slightly.

“You can have a go at it, I should get back, anyway,” the boy says quietly with a shaky smile and another bow, and then he is gone.

Klancain looks after him for a while, wondering whether he should have called after him that it would have been nice to have company, someone to offer just that tiny push to set into motion what seems to be frozen on this supposed star of fire that feels like ice more often than not.


End file.
